Legacy and Love

by Paula Mowery

  I paid for the groceries and headed back toward the house. I fumbled with the bags when a strong arm took them from me. “Here, let me help you with that.”

  “Thanks.” The man had to hear the hesitancy in my voice.

  “I’m Brant Collins. Miss Olivia hired me to care for her lawn and flower beds and general maintenance.”

  “Oh, nice to meet you. I’m her granddaughter, Alex.”

  “I was wondering if you would need me to stay on and take care of the mowing and landscaping duties?”

  With my inheritance safe in the bank, even if Brant knew about it, he was too late. Anyway, I had no experience in caring for a yard and definitely had no equipment. “Sure, that would be fine. I’m not sure what kind of arrangement you and my granny had.”

  “I normally made her an invoice of sorts. She liked to keep records.”

  “Fine. Thanks.” I had gotten the door open. I retrieved my bags from him and closed the door with my foot. If he had ulterior motives in any way, I could keep my eyes on him.

  I put away the groceries. An inventory was in order so I knew what I needed and what I didn’t. There was plenty of time for that. I sighed. “God, I’m just glad I don’t have to make any quick decisions for my survival.”

  If I played my cards right, I could just coast on the money Granny had left to me. But, I had done enough coasting in my life. I had waited for several years for my life to begin. What kind of life did I want to start? Oh, if only I had Granny here to discuss it with. Of course, she would tell me to begin on my knees and in the Word. She would be right. Her legacy of faith was much too strong to ignore. Staying angry with God accomplished nothing. I moseyed to the study and sat down at the writing desk. This time I opened the Bible searching for another kind of wealth—answers to God’s plan for my life.

  * * *

  Millie showed up at the front door early Tuesday morning. I was dressed yet somewhat disheveled. Since I only planned to putter around the house going through some other boxes, I decided no makeup or hairdo was necessary.

  “I’m sorry, dear. I hope I didn’t wake you.”

  “No, no, Millie, I’ve been up. Just didn’t really worry about hair and makeup today. I must be a scary sight.” I smoothed down my hair as best I could.

  “No, you look fine. I am barging in on you unannounced anyway. I’m just so used to having tea with Olivia...” Millie bowed her head and sniffed.

  My heart ached for her. She and Granny had known each other for a long time.

  “You’re never barging in. Come on in. I’ll make us some tea.”

  Millie’s expression brightened. She followed me into the kitchen. “Old habits are hard to break, you know? Your granny and I saw each other through the deaths of both of our husbands. We didn’t allow ourselves to become lonely. We always knew the other was right next door. I think God planned it that way. Does that sound silly?”

  “No, that doesn’t sound silly at all.” I sat down next to her, waiting for the whistle to blow on the kettle. “In fact, it sounds really great. I’ve never had anyone like that, you know, a real friend to share with. Except Granny.”

  Millie placed her hand atop mine. “Maybe you’ll find someone here.”

  “Maybe. Hey, I wanted to ask you a question. When Granny said that my inheritance was in the Word, she really meant it. I found money stuck into all of her study Bibles. Did you know about it?”

  Millie chuckled. “No, but don’t that sound like her? That Granny of yours was quite the witty one. I’m not surprised.” She shook her head, stirring more sugar into her tea.

  “Millie, it was quite a bit of money. Where could it have come from? She didn’t work anywhere, did she?”

  “No, I never knew her to work, outside the home, that is. All of us women know we work hard at home. Anyway, maybe Hayward, her husband, had some kind of insurance or something when he passed. I don’t know.” She sipped her tea.

  That could be true, but he died years ago. She could have invested the money, or my grandfather could have had a lucrative business. Still, that didn’t account for the abundance of money I had found.

  “By the way, what do you know about this Brant Collins guy? He says he took care of the lawn and maintenance around here.”

  “He’s a local boy.”

  I forced myself not to giggle at Millie calling a grown man a boy. Of course, to a ninety-year-old woman, many people seemed like boys and girls.

  “I was glad when Olivia hired him. Did you know that she did all of the yard work and maintenance herself until he came? She was amazing.” She shook her head.

  “I thought so too. I’m beginning to think there is a whole town full of people that have similar sentiments about Granny Olivia.”

  Millie stayed until we had shared two cups of tea. I loved hearing about she and Granny’s visits and activities through the years.

  “I better get back. Callie, my cat, will wonder where I’ve gotten to.”

  “Please feel free to come for a visit anytime. I know I’m not Granny Olivia, but I’ve so enjoyed spending time with you.”

  “Thank you, dear. That is sweet of you to say about an old wrinkled woman like me.”

  I walked with her to the door. Then I watched as she crossed the side yard toward her house. About halfway, she turned back and waved. I waved back and sighed. Millie and Granny must have been extremely close. The grief from the loss of her friend was painted across her face. What would it be like to have a friend like that? I had thought maybe Justin was to be my best friend. When we were first married we shared intimate talks. To have a friend so long that had shared so much of your life. That must have been special.

  “Now, Alex, Jesus is my best friend. He’s never too tired of hearing me talk. That’s a miracle in and of itself. You just remember. Others will let you down, but Jesus never will.” I could still hear Granny telling me that. At different stages in my life she said the same held true. It didn’t matter if I was a young girl who had fallen off my bike or a young woman getting a divorce. She still reiterated that Jesus was the only true friend.

  I moseyed back toward the study as Granny’s truths swirled around in my head. I needed to check the closet. I had noticed it the day before and wondered what was kept there. As I turned the handle and pulled the door toward me, my eyes landed upon a stack of books. I picked one up and opened it. An empty journal. So this was the stockpile she drew upon when she sent me journals.

  Granny Olivia always encouraged me to write. She would tell me to scribble thoughts and ideas I wanted to remember or things I observed. She told me to write stories or anything I thought should be in my book. Granny always kept many journals. In fact, she had paper every place. She said, “You never know when a thought you don’t want to forget might pop up. You need something available to write it down on.” She even kept a pad of paper in the bathroom. I laughed at the thought.

  Granny had such wonderful stories to tell. Sometimes she would say, “I got the idea for that story standing in line at the store.” Or, “I overheard a funny saying, and turned it into a tale.” Or, “I couldn’t go to sleep last night until I wrote down the outline for this story.”

  When I was a girl, I reasoned everybody had a Granny like mine who told stories. I suddenly recalled the times she felt we needed just the right atmosphere to enhance a story, so we would make a tent or use the couch for a boat. What an imagination, and how fascinating for a young girl! Oh, to get lost in another of her adventures. The real world hadn’t been as kind as the world here with Granny Olivia. Maybe that was why I was here now, to get lost in a world without such struggle and disappointment. Was that possible? I wanted a different world than the one I had been living in.

  As I strolled to the mailbox, I scanned my surroundings. Fall transformed the environment outside. I had not taken the time to notice, with my attention being focused on the inside of Granny’s house. I had to admit, Brant had done a fine job keeping the yard looking nice. There were
even new flower plantings in the beds at the front door and at the mailbox. I was sure Granny Olivia had a certain way she wanted it to be, and Brant had learned her preferences.

  I skipped getting the mail and decided to go for a stroll first. The fresh air and fall-painted scenery allured me. Passing Mr. Baker’s house, I wondered if he was still alive and still crabby. The next home found a couple seated on the porch in their swing. They waved to me as I strolled by, and I returned the greeting. Coming to Opal’s house, I questioned if her raspberry bushes still produced berries after the summer I ate most of them.

  The birds’ song mixed with the scenery like a museum with a background cantata. In this neighborhood God had slowed time for people to enjoy His creation and His presence. What a contrast from the hustle-bustle of my life in Knoxville. At the end of the street an older man looked on as a young boy rode a small bike in the driveway. His old car was parked along the curb, no doubt giving the little guy more room to practice. Obviously the boy was just learning to perfect riding a bicycle, for the man shouted encouragement from the sidelines.

  “You’re getting it now, Johnny!”

  The small boy’s face was covered with a smile, and he sat tall with pride.

  What had I missed? My life had been a series of starts with no finishes. No husband, no family, no children, no career. I gazed up past the rustling leaves to the clear blue sky beyond. I had nothing.

  “You always have Jesus.”

  The words were so clear, I turned to look behind me, fully expecting to see Granny there beside me on the sidewalk. No Granny, but the sun twinkled through the foliage of the trees making jewels on the concrete walk. I sighed. I was glad I still heard Granny’s wisdom reverberating around me. I hummed a familiar tune. My eyes misted over when I realized the song was ‘Jesus Loves Me’. Finally back at the house, I almost forgot the mail. Halfway up the walkway, I turned around.

  I was unsure what kind of mail Granny would receive, if any. However, if there were correspondences, I needed to send word of her passing. There were three envelopes. Two were clearly junk, since they were marked for current resident. The third envelope intrigued me. The name Olivia Lyndon showed through the plastic window. The page inside had a background like a check. I carried it inside and opened it. It was a check from a publishing company in New York. The memo line read—Alexa Livingston.

  Now I was really confused. I paused in the entry a moment. My mother had explained that my name, Alexandra, came from Granny Olivia. Her middle name was Alexa if I remembered correctly, but Livingston wasn’t right. Lyndon was her last name. I wandered into the study, searching the desk for a clue as to whether this actually belonged to Granny or not and why she would receive it. In the left-hand drawer of the desk there was a book—different than a journal. Upon opening it, it appeared to be some kind of ledger. So she did keep some kind of records, even though she didn’t trust a bank. I chuckled. I scanned the pages and found entries from the Carson Publishing Company, which matched the name on the check I found in the mailbox. Well, it must have come to the right place, but what was it for? I turned to the first page of the ledger and sure enough, there was the matching name—Alexa Livingston. Was that Granny’s maiden name? Why would she receive a correspondence with her middle and maiden names on it? And, why did she receive a check from a publishing company? I replaced the book and scanned the check and accompanying invoice again. Aha! A phone number and contact name.

  I was hesitant at first, because I had no idea who I was calling or exactly what to say. I also wasn’t sure that anyone would still be at the number this late in the evening. But, I had to know what to do with the check. It was made out for a substantial amount—ten thousand dollars! I picked up my cell phone before I lost my courage. I spotted the signature on the check and froze, putting my phone aside. Chase Carson—the man from the funeral.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  The sun was glowing over the mountain ridge that Wednesday morning when Chase knocked at Miss Olivia’s front door. He had tried to give Alex Lyndon time to grieve, but he had to get this settled. He still practiced what he was going to say, because he was unsure how to approach the reason for his visit. The door flew open. Miss Olivia’s granddaughter froze, wide-eyed.

  “It’s you.” Her eyes narrowed as she studied him.

  “Chase Carson.” He stuck his hand toward her. She fumbled and finally shook it. “You are Alex, right? Miss Olivia’s granddaughter?”

  “Uh, yes. I’m glad to see you again because I have some questions about a letter. Please come in.” She kept her eyes on Chase as he brushed by her. She closed the door and gestured toward the sofa. “Please have a seat.”

  Alex plunked down in a chair across from him and scrutinized him for a long moment. The silence became uncomfortable—it edged on embarrassing. Finally, he shook his head slightly to clear it or bring it into focus.

  “I’m sorry to hear about Mrs. Livingston, I mean, Mrs. Lyndon.”

  “Thank you. I’m still not used to the idea that she is gone.” She fingered the arm of the chair, and her shoulders drooped.

  “And you say you are her granddaughter. Is that right?” Chase couldn’t be wrong about her identity. He couldn’t afford to tell the wrong person.

  “Yes.” Her tone held an edgy or offensive overture. Had his question sounded as if he didn’t believe who she was?

  He cleared his throat. “I don’t mean to offend. It’s just that I must make sure who you are before I divulge what I will.”

  Her brow wrinkled, and she leaned forward, crossing her arms over her chest. She glanced around the room. “Am I being filmed for some reality show? Those shows where they reveal some secret or long lost loved one and then record the person’s reaction?”

  Chase stifled a chuckle.

  “Look, I don’t know what this is all about, but I am Alexandra Lyndon. I am the daughter of my Granny Olivia’s only daughter, who is also gone. I just want to know what is going on.” Her voice had a desperate tone, and her hands trembled.

  He sighed and smiled at her. “I didn’t come here to upset you. I would never want to do that. Miss Olivia wanted you to know after her death, but no one else.”

  Alex rubbed her arms as if a chilly wind had just blown through the room. “Know what?” Her voice shook.

  “The letter you received was her royalty check. Your granny was an author. A very popular one at that.”

  Her hands dropped to her lap, and her eyes widened. “An author?”

  “Yes, she wrote Christian novels—romance and mystery.”

  “Why did I never know?”

  “She didn’t want anyone to know. At first she used her pen name so she could keep her privacy. Then she also realized over the last few years that her readers might not be as excited about reading romance from a ninety-year-old woman.” He chuckled.

  She fell back into the chair, shook her head, and laughed.

  Chase was puzzled by her reaction.

  “Thank goodness. I thought she might have been involved in something illegal or something. That explains all of the money she left me. Wow, I should’ve figured that out.” She shook her head again.

  Chase listed some of Miss Olivia’s titles. Alex nodded. “I’ve read some of them myself. I should have recognized her writing. I’ve heard it all my life.”

  Chase became serious again and leaned forward, looking into her eyes. “Here’s the problem. There’s one last manuscript that ends the series. I know it was complete because she told me. I just have no idea where it is. There are quite a few people who would like to get their hands on it. It is worth a lot of money. The readers are waiting for it. It should be a CD. She always wrote in long hand and then a typist put it on a disk for her.”

  She scratched her head. “I haven’t run across it yet. I’ve been trying to go through some of Granny’s things. I don’t plan to change much though. This place has always been perfect just the way it is.” Alex scanned the room and then gazed back at him
. “Do you have any ideas where to look?”

  “I was hoping you would have some ideas.”

  “Well, there is the reading of the will on Thursday. From what the lawyer said there’s not much there, but maybe there would be something. A clue?” She shrugged. “You’re welcome to come with me.” Pink shot to her cheeks. “I mean…you can attend.”

  “Thank you for the invitation. I think I’ll take you up on that.” He rubbed the stubble on his chin. Would he be too forward to ask to pick her up? The idea made sense—they were going to the same place. “Umm, could I offer to drive you?”

  Alex diverted her eyes from his gaze. Her cheeks were now red. “If that’s not any trouble?” Her gaze met his again, brows raised.

  Chase’s heart pounded a little harder. She was cute even though she wore work clothes and her hair was pulled back. “No trouble,” his voice squeaked out.

  * * *

  The next morning his pulse doubled once again when she emerged from the front door. Her dark wavy hair hung down past her shoulders, making her hazel eyes sparkle. When she flashed a smile, an adorable dimple appeared on her right cheek. He motioned toward the car, not trusting his voice at the moment. As he followed her down the sidewalk, he noticed how her knee-length dress hugged her thin waist. What was he doing?

  He slid into the driver’s seat, catching a whiff of vanilla. He needed to focus.

  “I really appreciate you taking me to the reading of the will. I’m a little nervous. I’ve never had to do anything like this before. I’m afraid Granny Olivia was always the one I could count on to be at my side. Now that she’s gone…” Her voice trailed off, and she stared out the windshield.

  Chase’s chest tightened, knowing what losing a loved one was like. “I’m glad I can go with you.” Their eyes met for a split second. There went his heart again.